


As I die here another day,

by ghettoassenglishman



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Kissing, M/M, alternative season 4, baby Mickey is lost but then is found, both of them are little shits really, finding their way back to eachother- because they are saps., inspired by a song, sadness to fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:01:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2686967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It felt- he didn't know what he felt, it wasn't something he had felt before. He just knew, that's it. He knew that Ian was the one to even things out. " </p><p> </p><p>- Mickey goes to look for Ian and wants him to come home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As I die here another day,

**Author's Note:**

> So I was listening to Jealous by Labrinth this week, and I felt I really needed to write a fic on it as the song was way to emotional, and as we know Gallavich is full of emotions!. This is the link- I listened to it while writing and I cried ok, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fl0ozwe2KgM
> 
> I hope you like it I tried my best haha!, kudos and comments are fully appreciated:)

You gotta give it to him, he was doing pretty well for all the shit that had happened. Yet again Mickey was left to his own wits;nothing but lines of coke or cheap beers to get by.

 

It had been a year since Ian had run off to the army, but the slight hurt still lingered. Mickey chose to ignore it, you could say he was scared, but he wasn't. He was angry, angry how Ian must have known that Mickey needed someone, needed him. Just like he had always needed Mickey. But he left. Army seemed more appealing apparently. Getting shot at and fighting for your life was more interesting and self enduring to the Redhead. The army wasn't much of a difference to Southside, just a couple of uniforms to hide the scars of switch blades and gunshots.

 

Mandy had moved out, just soon after Terry was sent back to jail;to Mickey's luck some past dealer shanked him out days before his release. No more Terry meant no more whore to pretend to be with. Despite Svetlana's pregnancy, she decided that Russia was the best place to go back to, her and her girlfriend were on it as quick as the dreads were gone at the bottom of Mickey's bottle. Mickey wasn't surprised she was in to chicks, if he had to see as many dicks as she had he would be bored too,- well, unless it happened to belong to a lanky fucker with red hair,who managed to insert himself within him- literally.

 

Iggy and Tony were never around, trying to recover the disaster of a business that Terry created. So the house was Mickey's oak yard, his fort of drinking his life away and enjoying pointless highs alone.

 

The flashbacks were still there from that day. The hurt in Ian's eyes, the pain Mickey sharply felt against his chest as Ian spoke the words, “I didn't come for you.”

Mickey was begging internally, _please stay. Don't go._ But it was hopeless. His emotional detachment was always the problem. 

Ian was always so out there, his beaming smile gigantic against his face. Mickey was not that, it was lucky not to get a fist to the face with one look towards him. Keeping the reputation of the southside thug  was still intact, and still important.

 

It felt- he didn't know what he felt, it wasn't something he had felt before. He just knew, thats it. He knew that Ian was the one to even things out.

 

One night he felt some adrenaline burst through his seams, as the toxin slowly increased through his diluted pupils. The night before he saw flashes of red and green, the kiss suddenly on him-those big strong hands all over him. Not once did it show Ian's face, but he just knew. It wasn't the brush of the jeans, or the smell of his neck, It was the feeling. One he had denied he noticed but it was there. It was strange, fucked up sappy, but it was just Ian.

 

The sudden urge eloped in his thoughts, _I have to find him. I have to get him back._ He had never gone with his words and actually gone out to get him, maybe it was the fear of being rejected, or the fear of finding out Ian wasn't even there anymore. 

This time, his high was ecstatic, he could taste it on his tongue. The words were a challenge, something he hadn't faced in a while. So he took it, crossing off places in his mind of where Gallagher might be. 

 

No fucking way was he going to the Gallagher house, not when Lip knows his whole fucking life story, Ian had to blab to someone. Even with their fucked up family sweetness, the Gallaghers could kill if it meant getting justice for their siblings. 

 

Baseball field, zero. No red hair was to be seen, just worn out grass and rusty old bleachers. There was no life out there, no fucking Ian. Shit to believe Mickey had suddenly created a liking for it. 

Abandoned building, empty. Other than the cringing memory of shouting and punching Ian to the ground, there was nothing but silence. He had even checked the back of the Kash N' Grab, he didn't know if that towel head was on to something – trying to get back on the ass trade with Ian. He wasn't going to be a bitch and tell anyone how jealous he was of that fucker- but then again no one needed to know. 

 

So, the last resort was immanent. Ned. That rich fucker would never turn down the offer of Ian coming with him, as soon as Mickey heard the news Ian was missing Ned was first for the people he knew Ian would go to. Well he didn't hope. 

 

_ Really? Was he really going fucking there.  _ Mickey swayed outside the club, the florescent lights blaring through the open door. A drink already in his palm, he felt his neck creep up with that familiar heat that happened whenever he came close to Ian. It was annoying, and itched like fuck- like he was going to vomit any minute. The fairytale was obviously the go-to club, and Ned was especially the valid costumer. Mandy had mentioned the place a few times, whining whenever Ian blew her off to go there. So this was the place to go, well he hoped. Otherwise looking like a pansy was all for nothing. 

 

Funny enough, no one was giving him looks. Not of fear anyway. His eyes were blurring, the alcohol finally flowing through his blood stream. Scanning the crowded grinding bodies, he looked for Red. It took a few minutes trying not to gip as the whiff of sweat or the speed of lights across his eyes, but he finally found what he was looking for. 

 

Ian was grinding down on some old fucker, booty shorts riding up his ass as his hips rolled against the geriatrics legs. A rise of anger freed through his body, he tried to calm it but each time Ian moved the clenching of his fists got tighter. Storming over dropping his bottle onto the floor, he pulled back Ian who was closer- than possible- to the limp fucker underneath him. 

 

“Hey! Get your own.' The old fuck shouted, trying to clutch Ian's thighs back down to him. Mickey hadn't noticed, but there was a bag of pills between the fucks fingers. 

 

Mickey pushed him off the chair, kicking at his skin to move him faster. 'Fuck off you piece of shit, times fucking up.' Ian stood shakily, fingers cracking as he hummed in frustration. When Mickey finally nearly punched the guy, he looked over to Ian seeing his cheeks push out and in. - he knew that look. “ Ian you need to go home to your family.”

 

The redhead looked distant, walking closer to the smaller boy so their breaths were nearly touching. “20 Bucks gets you a dance.” he ignored Mickey's glare, eyes wandering around the room for his next costumer. It wasn't Ian, the life in his eyes were gone and the smile he once saw was not there. 

 

“What the fuck Gallagher? We are leaving now.” Mickey gripped at Ian's biceps, just to be pushed backwards onto the chairs. Ian felt stronger, able of pushing Mickey over. It wasn't that Mickey had lost his touch, it was like he was letting Ian push him- push him like he always fucking did. 

 

“I said 20 Bucks gets you a dance, or I find someone else.” His voice was motionless, each word monotone with his eyes dying as he tried to blink them open. Mickey could see he was struggling, even if Ian had grown stronger he was getting thinner. The fear of wanting care crept up, but he left it to brew. 

 

“ I never gotta pay for that shit before?” Mickey pulled out his bills, pulling out 20 bucks and holding it towards the redhead. For a moment he thought Ian was frozen, but then he saw the eyebrow raise, and the lift of his shorts. _Could this get anymore gay? Fucking hell._ Mickey tilted his head, huffing as he gently placed it under the elastic. 

 

Then Ian was undergo, his face was lent down his nose brushing against Mickey's cheek. The movements commanded against him as Ian swivelled his hips around Mickey's legs. “How's your day been?” the redhead asked casually, sounding like he had said it countless times. 

 

Mickey scoffed, trying to look as uncomfortable as possible. “Hows my fucking day been? I have been looking all day for your coked-up ass.” he noticed Ian clench his jaw,biting back words he would of usually just blurted out. Mickey didn't want to get angry, even though Ian had spent most of his time nagging him to feel some affection towards him- now he was, Ian wasn't even acknowledging it. “Ian...” 

 

Ian ignored him, turning on his lap with the feather string wrapping around his neck. Mickey positioned his head so he could see Ian's face, but he could see nothing but emptiness. He looked washed out, fed up. “Ian you need to go see your fucking family.” as much as he wished Ian would go back for him, shit did he just think that? He had to tell him that he family needed him, because they kinda did. 

“Thanks I had a great time.” Ian continued to ignore him, stepping off his lap with a stroke to his leg. Before he could walk off, Mickey leaped up and pulled at his shoulder. It jolted him a little bit, his eyes still rimmed with darkness. Mickey was breathing hard, and some how his pants had become tighter- but obviously that was for another time. 

 

“I don't care if you don't want to speak to me, but its your fucking family man.” 

 

Ian breathed in heavily, Mickey could hear it. His dark rimmed eyes glanced up, careful of where they were looking. Mickey could feel him straining to talk but he just stared into nothing, jaw clenching and hands twitching. 

 

Mickey stepped forward, trying to put a hand on Ian's shoulder to be pushed off once again. “Ian.. Fuck. Your family need you, Liam took in some of Fiona's coke, Franks in fucking hospital. Who knows if Carl or Debbie decide to go fucking AWOL? You need to come home.” he didn't mean to include himself within “home” but he knew that Ian would touch into that stuff, click on and smile like a idiot high off the smell of flowers. 

 

“Curtis, is this man bothering you?” A huge bouncer stepped in, his arm resting on Ian's flinching shoulder. The tattoos on Mickey's hands were blaring out under the lights, and it was impossible for him to look innocent in anyway. Ian shook his head, not sure of what to do. Or say, the amount of shock he faced was a speechless effect. 

 

Mickey scoffed, pointing his finger towards Ian and then back to the bouncer. “Curtis? Who the fuck is Curtis? Ian, I'm taking you home.” With a clutch to his skin, Ian flinched and pushed him off with a violent force. The pain in his eyes telling otherwise, but the bouncer was quick to tense up and prepare for a scrap. 

 

For the first time it actually sounded like Ian, “I am not leaving with you.” he pushed a hand into the chest of the bouncer, nodding for him to leave as in a way saying,  _ I got this. _ Mickey twitched his mouth, wanting to scream out because he  _ knew  _ Ian had to come with him, and knew he wanted to. 

 

“Oh so you'd rather leave with some old fuck who lives a double life?” Mickey spat, getting up in Ian's face. Without loosing his sense of anger he noticed the little things he had forgotten about Ian, the freckle just below his jaw; the scar just under his eye from when Lip punched him for being a “dick on speed”, the crinkle his mouth always got when he was thinking, or nervous;the cool breeze of his breath against his skin. “ I don't give a shit Ian, your family need you.” 

 

Ian laughed manically,pretending to clutch at his chest. “You fucking used me, my family uses me. What's the fucking difference?” he was now shouting over the music, eyes squinting as the tears were starting to form. Mickey opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what to come back with. He couldn't say he didn't use him, he did for maybe the first couple of fucks. But after them few, he realised something. That he didn't just want a fuck from Ian, that his company was more than enough. It seems Ian would never understand that. “I don't  _ want  _ to leave with you”

 

It threw Mickey back, for once. “Ian.. I – You, fuck.” he couldn't speak, he had no words to make him stay. What the hell could he say? Oh, I love you- all that shit that could be true if he wasn't so emotionally constipated and in fear of someone finding out. It was crippling, and even though he knew Ian probably needed to hear it, he couldn't. 

 

“Mickey Milkovich is for once speechless.” Ian flapped his arms against his bare thighs, his hand rubbing aimlessly against his jaw. “ You know what, I'm going to find someone who actually wants to be around me, who doesn't just want a fuck because they are scared of their shitty father. I deserve better than being left to be a mistress.” 

 

Mickey couldn't hold his biting lip, or his constant nag of shout. “Fuck  _ You!  _ You can suck dicks for shitty pay, and snort as much coke as you want, but atleast I fucking tried. Don't say I never did anythin' for ya.” Mickey barged past him, nearly toppling him over- not that he cared...okay he cared. But fuck that. He was not having to take shit, even if he did want Ian to go back. Ian had changed, big time. 

 

Once he got home, he headed straight for the bottle. Fucking Ian and his fucking stupid talk, and dick head smile, and just fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Mickey wanted to hate him, he did. Everything he said was right, but he wanted to hate him. It was like there was barrier, blocking him from pulling his red head off. Regret was on the brim, he could of stayed;he could of told Ian everything, but he didn't. Yet again, he was alone and the silence was actually starting to feel okay. 

 

He awoke to the sound of pelting rain against the window, the bottle still resting between his fingers. All he could hear upon his headache was the sickening words, “ _ I'm going to find someone who actually wants to be around me.” _ , repeating over and over. No shit he wanted to kill the fucker for saying what he did, but he couldn't stop thinking about those words. Whoever Ian was planning on meeting, Mickey was already Jealous. Just thinking about it made his chest hurt, made him wanna claw the air with aggression. But then again, obviously Ian could do better. 

 

Mickey was jealous of everything, jealous of the way the guys in the club could touch him and he couldn't. He was even jealous of the rain, the drops that fell upon Ian's skin. The way they were closer than his hands had been, and now he wished he had been closer. Sappy he knew, but what else was there to loose- no fucker was there, no fucked actually cared. Thoughts were his own harm, no one elses. 

 

Don't forget how he suddenly got jealous of the wind, stupid he figured. But when Mickey went out to collect some money from the alibi, he felt the nip against the breeze. The way he knew Ian could probably feel it too. The way the wind would probably ripple through his clothes, closer than his shadow- That Mickey wished he was in.  _ when did he turn into such a fucking sap-whore.  _

 

Mickey laid in his bed one night, counting the cracks in the ceiling. Just like counting sheep his eyes started to drift, until thunder struck against the sky. The flash of lightening shone through the room and shook him awake. He never did like it, he shit him up- and countless times it just brought back memories of Terry beating him, the crackle of thunder matching the cracks of his ribs or jaw. Before he knew it, his bed felt empty. 

 

Not like anyone really slept in it, the whore  _ had  _ to, he didn't want it. Ian had a few times, from pure laziness. But now, it felt spacious, like someone was meant to be there- taking all the space and warming it up. Mickey's mind was soon to spring back to the familiar, smart ass, redhead. It had been two weeks now since he had seen him, and yet the anger had washed off- to much effort to hold pointless grudges- and he still wished all the best the world could give to him- even if that meant being happy with someone else. 

Mickey always thought he'd come back, and tell him he found nothing but heartbreak and misery. The clocks ticked, and the days went. Still through bottles and bottles of beer, nothing seemed to make sense. Mickey could feel himself curl into a sap of loneliness and pure weakness. 

 

It was hard for him to say, but he did wish Ian had found someone- someone who would be there. Mickey wanted him to be happy, he didn't show he did, but he did, even if it was without him. 

 

Each jolt of thunder made him jump against the pillows, the cover wrapping more and more around him as it grew darker. It made him wonder, why was he so fucking jealous of the nights that Ian didn't spend with him?  _ Why? Why ? Why? What did it even mean.  _

 

Ian was probably lying next to some rich dick with toned abs, and a white pearled smile and a fake laugh. All the qualities of a northside prick under the name of Ned. Mickey was fucking jealous, he knew that was the case. The smile Ian would give to him, is being shared. Not with him but with some liar with a wad of money. 

 

Just as the last thump of clouds occurred a loud knock- fairly audible- echoed through the hall outside his room. At first he thought it was the thunder, he had tucked his head under the cover just to make sure. The knocks however got more persistent, and the disadvantages of living alone was that  _ you  _ had the responsibility of answering it. It was 2am for gods sake, it couldn't be Jehovah witnesses, surely. 

 

With a moan and a clamber he pulled on a pair of stray sweatpants. Pulling on a overly large jumper, which he guessed was Ian's, he swung his bedroom door open in annoyance. The knocks were louder to his ear now, each paced quickly as if they were dying and great need. Mickey picked up his gun, awaiting Terry to slur his way in. The peep hole was non- existent so he pushed the gun to the back of the door, unlocking the bolts and opening the door without letting the wind slam it. 

 

Without warning, or any proctorial display, he didn't expect to see Ian drenched holding a bag in his hands. It was all so surprising and his jaw went a slack, the gun he once held tightly slipping onto the pile of shoes pushed against the wall. Ian was shivering, his hair dripping at the tips. It all looked so....romantic comedy bullshit. “What the fuck..Ian?” he could see the life back into the green eyes, a lingering line of eyeliner still like bags underneath them. His hair was a bundle, and his coat was torn. - it was strangely, most awfully beautiful. 

 

“I need you to hit me.” Ian mumbled, dropping his bag against his feet. The cold was clear against his lean body, his vest hanging off his chest. 

 

Mickey scratched the back of his head, overthrown by the sudden ask of a hit- was he being serious? As he turned to think, Ian followed put, leaving the door open for any fucker to join in. 

 

“ What the fuck are you talking about, Gallagher?”Mickey asked sternly, trying not to jump on Ian like a clingy bear. The kid needed a hug, he needed something. As he responded the thunder struck once again and he couldn't help himself from flinching, it felt closer. 

 

“I need you to want to kill me.” Ian spoke more clearly, eyes tearing up against the edges,his chest moving higher with each breath. His eyes remained in contact, unlike the other time they had spoken. Mickey felt vulnerable,not in full control of the situation. _What the fuck was he talking about?_ “Beat the shit out of me.”

 

Mickey shook his head, gripping onto the table behind him to retrieve his jumps of shock, Ian was following his steps much greater than his so he kept up. They both stood nearly breaths apart, Mickey was lost for words and was scared Ian was ready to lash out. “Ian...” he whispered, noticing how the taller boys lip started to quiver against his face, the way his hands gripped with nothing, but wanted everything. 

 

Ian's breath was cold against his cheek, “I need you to hate me.” A tear fell against his red, freckled cheeks, falling in line with the raindrops. The breeze from the open door was nothing compared to the chills Mickey had drilling up his spine. Mickey knew it was time to do something, Ian was on the verge of breakdown. Mickey did not hate Ian, he wanted to. Hell, he really did. But how can you hate someone you love too much?  _ Shit. Love? _

 

“Ian” Mickey stamped, his hand reaching up carefully to rest of Ian's cheek. He could feel the redhead lean into it, his face warming up against the palm. Ian let out a sob, his own hand reaching up to place upon Mickey's. Mickey was jealous of all the things that got to hold him, that got to feel him, but he could prove to Ian he was worthy of waiting for. He needed to show him he wanted him around. 

 

“I, I- Need...” Ian stuttered, his lips shaking so bad the words couldn't form. Clenching his eyes shut, he could feel the wetness developing against his skin. 

 

“Spit it out Gallagher.” Mickey groaned, rolling his eyes as he could see the twitch in Ian's lips to smile. Ian was closer some how, his sobs vibrating through Mickey's skin- he hated it. He hated Ian being so torn, he thought leaving Ian to himself would make him happy. 

 

Ian sniffed up, his eyes catching onto the blue gleams before his, “I need you.” They both tensed, their breathing the only sound between them. Mickey's eyes searched within the taller boys, his mouth a gape as the confession. No one had  _ ever  _ needed him before, they just needed his ability. - not himself. It was all new to him, and yet again the thunder bursted through and he shot up against Ian's touch. He was not one for words, but he sure knew he was for actions, so he took what he could give. 

 

Ian felt Mickey crush his lips into his, the sense of missing the soft texture all pouring back. It wasn't a sensation of heartbeat-mania, it was a sense of calm. It felt safe, like if Mickey latched his lips onto his no one could get to him. He drew himself closer, feeling the jump off Mickey's body each time the sky cackled, to calm him his brushed his hands along the smaller boys back- the warm shielding him against his sobs. 

 

Mickey pulled away first, resting their foreheads together. Their breathing was hitched, and bodies lined. With lips brushing and hands grasping against Ian's coat,he whispered, “What about home?” he knew Ian would have to go back, but he could cherish this small moment, couldn't he?

 

Just as always, because Ian would  _ always  _ find the right words, Mickey's heart dropped as the words fell sweetly from Ian's mouth. “I am home.”

 

 

 


End file.
